Unlikely
by Bellantara
Summary: The Academy commandant takes two of his problem cadets as the base for an expeditionary team to Arus. But will they get past their differences and become more?
1. Chapter 1

The Academy commandant stared at the two files on his desk, wondering what to do about the very different problems they represented. Two cadets, equally brilliant, but with personalities that could threaten their careers.

The older cadet, while no slouch in the classroom, showed his true genius in the cockpit. At seventeen, three years into his training, he could fly anything in the Academy's inventory-and had, to include taking an antique F-15 out for a joyride. As the commandant understood it, an instructor had condescendingly told the cadet that his skills weren't adequate to handle the 20th century fighter, and probably never would be. The cadet had given the F-15 an appraising look, then left class without another word. The next morning, he had dropped a stack of papers on the instructor's desk as he left class, saying only, "The instruments need calibrating." The baffled instructor had picked up the papers; to his shock, they were a complete report on the cadet's checkride in the F-15. An inspection confirmed that the plane had been recently flown, and, as the cadet had said, the instruments were in need of calibration. Half the instructors were in awe of him; the other half wanted him dismissed from the Academy.

"If only his people skills were as good as his flying," the commandant sighed, then mentally revised the statement. The boy was outgoing and gregarious; by all reports, his roguish good looks and charm netted him his choice of dates, male and female both. The only fault in his people skills-if it could be called one-was that he did not give respect easily. The people he respected had earned it, and he made no secret of when he was respecting a position rather than its holder. Not the worst quality to have, but a sure way to make enemies in the cutthroat world of Garrison politics.

By contrast, the other cadet was almost TOO respectful, all but groveling to his teachers and anyone he perceived as older. When he had first come to the Academy, just two years earlier, that near-subservient nature, coupled with almost feminine looks, had made him a target for bullies. The bullies had quickly learned that the feminine appearance and unassuming nature hid a master martial artist. Leaving five of them in a bruised, groaning pile had assured the cadet of peace in the future, as had gaining the friendship of an older, darkly intimidating cadet.

The commandant sighed. The boy at fifteen was an excellent pilot, and had a genius for strategy and tactics that had frontline commanders clamoring for his services. But, despite-or perhaps because of-being two years ahead of the other cadets his age, he still had only the one friend, and tended to keep to himself. That tendency had been made worse with the news of his family's death in a car crash, and the commandant feared for the boy's sanity.

Two cadets with completely different problems . . . how to help them become the well-adjusted officers he knew they could be? Opposite problems. . ."It's just insane enough to work," he said aloud, and paged his secretary. "Have Cadets Kogane and McClain report to me on the double." As he sat back to wait, his hand fell on the note from Marshal Graham, requesting candidates for his Arus project.


	2. Chapter 2

Cadet Lance McClain sauntered into the commandant's reception area, gave his name to the secretary, and sprawled across one of the chairs. He had been in Aerial Combat class when summoned, and so wore his black flight suit, sleeves pushed to his elbows in defiance of regulations, and his flight gloves stuffed in a pocket. Figuring this was about the joyride in the '15, he started to plan how to charm his way out of trouble yet again. He grinned as he replayed the flight in his mind's eye; the old fighter had flown like a dream. There had been almost no computer control, and the feeling of so much power in his hands had been exhilarating and terrifying all at the same time. For the first time ever, he hadn't been bored flying. 'I don't care what they do to me; that was totally worth it!'

His thought processes crashed to a halt as another cadet slipped into the room. Lance stared unabashedly and appreciatively, mouth gone dry. The other boy was slight, almost delicate, with long blue-black hair that begged to have Lance's fingers tangled in it. His Academy whites were crisply starched, and Lance wryly wondered how the hell he still looked so good at 4 in the afternoon. Then the cadet identified himself to the commandant's secretary in a soft, barely-accented voice, and Lance's jaw dropped. _This _was Keith Kogane? The wunderkind who had taken the Academy by storm? This delicate, unassuming being was the lethal martial artist responsible for the bruises presently sported by half the Academy football team? Lance swallowed and tried to get his brain back in working order as the commandant summoned them into his office. He managed, somehow, to properly report to the commandant, even while still ogling Kogane.

The commandant noticed McClain's interest with amusement. _Yes, this should work out just fine._ He cleared his throat. "At ease, cadets." They relaxed marginally, and he continued, "We've gotten a request for a specialized team to be trained and sent to Arus, in the Denubian Galaxy. Based on the recommendations of your instructors, you two have been selected for this team, along with Cadet Holgersson." He didn't miss Kogane's look of relief. "The other two members of your team have yet to be chosen; for now, the three of you will live and train together."

Lance looked doubtfully at his new teammate. Sure, the kid was supposed to be several kinds of awesome in one sack, but he really didn't look cut out for a deep space mission. And to actually live with him and the guy everyone referred to as "that damned Viking" . . . was going to put a serious crimp in his love life. Of course, he amended, if he could get Kogane interested in HIM . . . that was a whole 'nother ballgame. Still, he wouldn't be Lance McClain if he just accepted orders meekly, so. . . . "Ah, come on, Commandant! He's just a kid!"

The commandant raised an eyebrow. "If you aren't willing to do this, _Cadet_, I can always take appropriate action concerning your . . . unscheduled flight the other day."

Lance gulped. "No, sir, I have no problems with it. I just was concerned for Cadet Kogane, that's all."

Kogane glared at him. "I can take care of myself, McClain. Save your concern for someone who wants it." He returned his attention to the commandant. "When do we start, sir?"

"As soon as Cadet Holgersson returns from his emergency leave," the commandant answered. "I understand he'll be arriving from Oslo in two days; report back here at 0900 on Thursday, and I'll have the details of your new living arrangements and training schedule. Dismissed!"

Kogane saluted sharply and left; Lance gave a slightly sloppier salute and followed him. "So . . . ., looks like we're roomies!" He grinned at the younger boy, exerting the charm that never failed him. He was startled at the venomous glare Kogane gave him; he was surprised as hell when the other cadet slammed him against the wall. He hadn't even seen Kogane move!

"Understand one thing, McClain." The soft voice was deadly. "I will live with you and train with you because it has been ordered. But I do NOT want to be friends. I don't NEED friends. So just leave me alone." He shoved Lance into the wall and walked away quickly.

Lance was watching after him, stunned, when he heard a rueful chuckle behind him. "You have your work cut out for you, cadet." He spun to see the Commandant leaning against his office door, having clearly seen everything. "Kogane is a ticking time bomb; I'm hoping you can defuse it."

Well, _that_ didn't make sense. "Me, sir? What do you mean?"

The commandant waved him into his office and into a chair; for once, Lance sat up straight like the sober cadet he was supposed to be. "Kogane has always been very quiet and withdrawn; Holgersson was beginning to draw him out of it. . . until Kogane's family was killed in a flyer accident a month ago. Now. . . well, you see how he is, and it's troubling. With his skills, he could become a danger to himself and others if he's not drawn out." The commandant locked gazes with him. "I know your reputation, McClain; you can charm pretty much anyone when you put your mind to it. I didn't put you and Kogane together _just_ because you're the best choices for this mission; I put you together because I'm hoping you can save him from himself."

Lance's eyes widened. "I'll do the best I can, sir; I don't know if it will be enough. You saw what happened."

"Yes. Just try, Cadet. Kogane needs more friends than just Holgersson, and I'm afraid time's running out for him." The commandant stood up. "Dismissed."

Lance snapped to attention and saluted; when it was returned, he wandered out of the commandant's office, head spinning with the responsibility he'd just been handed.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Thanks to Lance4ever for prodding me to update this! Will try to update my fics more regularly.

The flight from Oslo had been delayed by bad weather; consequently, it was after midnight before Sven finally got back to the dorm. The light was on in his and Keith's room, and he swore to himself in Norwegian. He should have known Keith would wait up for him. "You should haf gone to bed," he said softly as he entered the room.

"The last time I went to bed waiting for someone to come home, they didn't," Keith answered flatly, and Sven winced.

"Anyting interesting happen vhile I vas gone?" Sven tossed his bag to the foot of his bed, and grabbed a set of pjs from his dresser.

"You could say that." Keith outlined his meeting with the Commandant, ending with, "so, we're meeting with him at 0900 tomorrow to get more details." The Asian boy frowned. "I don't like that McClain; what do you know about him?"

Sven paused, shirt hanging off his hands forgotten. "He's a genius in de air; de instructors haf yet to find anyting he cannot fly. Same vit his tactical skills." He smiled wryly. "He is also good looking, and knows far too vell how good he is at tings."

"And we have to work with him. Great." Keith rolled his eyes.

"Keit." Sven waited until Keith met his gaze, then continued, "From everyting I haf heard, McClain is a good guy, even if he is a cocky bastard. I vould not mind being friends vit him, and . . . . you could do vit more friends den just me."

Keith glared. "I don't need _anybody_. Not even you."

"Tell that to somevon who vill belief it," the Norwegian returned calmly. He finished changing and got into bed before continuing, "Ve are bot too closed off from people; dat needs to change, for our careers, und for our own sakes. And before you say it. . .Keit, your family did not vant to leaf you. Und dey vould not vant you to isolate yourself. Tink about dat." He turned his light out, and was asleep in minutes.

Keith lay awake, coldly furious at Sven's presumption. He DIDN'T need anybody; people only left you, and hurt you deeply. But Sven's words echoed in his head. He knew he wouldn't be considered for a Space Explorer team if he stayed as antisocial as he was; that sort of instability was not compatible with living in close quarters for six months at a time. And as for his family. . . he shivered. Meyong Kogane had been a stickler for Japanese courtesy; if she had seen his reaction to McClain's friendly overture. . . his mother would have had his hide. Grudgingly he conceded Sven's point; he HAD isolated himself, and that needed to change. He still wasn't sure he LIKED McClain, but he resolved to make an effort to at least be friendly. For the good of the team.

The next morning, Keith and Sven were in the commandant's office at 0845, waiting nervously for their briefing. At 0855, McClain sauntered in, casual as always. "Morning, boys!" he said breezily, dropping into a chair next to Keith. "So, we finally get the details on the commandant's little project today, huh?"

Keith stiffened, then remembered his resolve of the previous night and forced himself to relax. "So it would seem." He paused. "I owe you an apology, McClain."

Lance managed to keep his jaw from dropping. "For what?"

"For my attitude towards you the other day." Keith sighed. "I. . . .don't make friends easily. And I'm not entirely convinced I need them. But I was unforgivably rude to you, and for that I am sorry."

Lance waved a hand. "No biggie. Start fresh?"

Keith nodded, and put out a hand. "Cadet McClain? I'm Keith Kogane; I understand we're going to be working together."

"I'm just Lance." Lance shook the other cadet's hand. "Yeah, nice to meet you. Can't wait to see what this is all about."

"Well, cadets, come into my office, and I'll give you the details." Lance jumped; he hadn't heard the commandant come up beside him. The three cadets quickly stood and followed him into his office, standing stiffly in front of his desk until he waved them into seats.

"We have received a request from Marshal Graham for a specialist team to go to planet Arus. You three are our top pilots: Kogane and McClain, you excel at strategy and tactics; Holgersson, I've gotten rave reviews for you from your navigation instructors. We've selected you three to form the core of the specialist team, and are looking for a systems analyst and engineer to round it out."

Sven cleared his throat. "If I may, sir?" The commandant nodded, and he went on. "I do not know if you are familiar with Cadet Darrell Stoker. He is ten years old, and _auditing_ my Advanced Quadratics class. For fun. I tink he may be de systems analyst you vant."

Lance sputtered. "_A ten year old? _You've gotta be kidding!"

Sven glared at him. "He is Baltan. And an orphan, from vhat I have heard de instructors say." Lance shut his mouth with a snap. Balto was known throughout the Alliance for being a cold, harsh place to grow up, even with a family; Lance could only imagine how much worse it could be WITHOUT one.

"I do know Cadet Stoker," the commandant said quietly. "The only childlike thing about him is his age." He nodded. "I will take your recommendation under advisement, Cadet Holgersson." He picked three packets up from his desk and held them out. "Here are your new housing assignments and training schedules; get settled in this weekend, and be ready to go first thing Monday morning. Dismissed."

The three saluted crisply and left the room. Once outside, they stopped to look at the new schedules. "Doesn't look too bad," Lance offered after a few minutes. "Drop the BS classes, pick up some extra sim time and hand to hand training—NOT looking forward to that with you, Kogane!" he grinned.

Keith was irritated. "If you can't handle it, McClain, then ask to be taken off the team!" He stopped and took a breath, reminding himself to dial it back. "Sorry. I'm still. . . .getting the hang of this. I won't do the damage to you that I did to the football players."

Lance shrugged. "It's OK; I know I'm hard to take sometimes. We'll adjust." He glanced at his watch. "Gotta get to class; see you guys later!" He took off in a loping run; Keith found himself watching, mesmerized by the other boy's casual grace. Suddenly he had a deep interest in getting to know Lance McClain better. A _lot_ better.

"Vell done, Keit," Sven said quietly, recapturing his attention. "I haf to get to class too; I vill see you at lunch." He walked away, hiding a grin at Keith's absent nod and continued stare after McClain. This promised to be entertaining; he couldn't wait for the weekend.


	4. Chapter 4

Early Saturday morning, Keith and Sven packed their duffels and footlockers up, then made their way across campus to the new quarters. Lance was already there, clearly waiting for them, his gear piled in the common room of a five bedroom suite. "Hi, guys," he said cheerfully. "Didn't want to claim a room till you two got here; I brought coffee and stuff if you're interested." Sure enough, the table behind him held three cups of coffee and a box from the local pastry shop. Sven, still a bit jetlagged, headed straight for the coffee, grabbing a cup and downing three gulps. Keith added cream and sugar to a cup, then curled up in a corner of the couch with it and a blueberry muffin. Lance snagged the last coffee and two jelly donuts, sprawling in the floor against his duffel bag.

After a few minutes, Sven came up for air and looked around. "Vell, dis is a nice place. Somehow dat frightens me. Vhat de hell are ve being volunteered for, dat ve rate such special treatment?"

"Who knows, who cares?" Lance shrugged with a cocky grin. "Best treatment for the best damned pilots in the place!"

"Perhaps," Keith said thoughtfully. "And perhaps Sven is right that we're being softened up for a bad assignment. Nothing to be done about it now; let's just decide on rooms and get settled." The quiet authority startled Lance; it startled him more to realize he was getting to his feet, grabbing his gear, and inspecting the bedrooms without even a token smartassed remark. Sven quickly claimed a corner room, as far away from the common areas as possible; Keith and Lance dropped their gear in the next two rooms. By then it was lunch time, and the three cadets headed for the dining hall.

Once they were settled with their trays, Sven looked at the other two. "Maybe ve should get to know each oter better," he said quietly. "Keit and I know each oter pretty vell, but you don't know us, and ve don't know you, Lance. I am from Norvay; my moter is de regional governor, and my fater teaches Norse mytology at de University in Oslo. I am deir only child; dey expected me to follow von of dem, be a teacher or a politician." He gave the other boys a hint of a smile. "Surprised hell out of dem vhen I told dem I vanted to come to de Academy and become a navigator."

"Oh, man. Bet they gave you a load of shit for it," Lance sympathized.

"Not really," the big Norwegian answered thoughtfully. "Dey haf alvays vanted me to be happy. Vhen dey saw I vas serious, Mamma got me de appointment to de Academy, and Pappa helped me vit my English so I vould not haf to take remedial classes." He looked at Lance. "Vhat about you? Vhat's de glorious history of de Academy hotshot?"

"I come from Nebraska, from the smallest town you've ever seen," Lance said quietly, pushing his food around his plate. "Everybody knows everybody, knows everybody's business. They all either farm or work at the mill or both. It's rare for someone to go to college, unheard of for anyone to actually leave. And then there was me. . ." he chuckled humorlessly. "I was the freak of freaks. Wanted the Academy, wanted to go to the stars, and . . . . liked boys as much as I did girls. I think that's why my old man let me come here; he thought the Academy would make a proper man out of me." He glanced up at his new teammates, almost as though expecting them to laugh. He'd surprised himself with that little story; he usually hid behind his cocky, daredevil mask. No one at the Academy knew his history, and here he'd told it to two virtual strangers. But, he told himself, if they were going to be teammates, they deserved to know the real him. And he needed to know how Keith would react to him being bisexual. He didn't dare believe there might be interest, but oh god could he pray. And had been for days. To his surprise, Keith and Sven both looked at him with quiet sympathy.

"That sounds horrible," Keith finally said softly. "When I told Okaa-san and Oto-san-sorry, Mother and Father—that I was sure I was gay, they were very supportive. Told me we cannot choose whom we love, and that who I loved did not mean they loved me any less."

Lance looked away. "I—I can't imagine what that's like. My parents have cut me off completely." He turned his attention back to his lunch, cocky mask firmly back in place. "So, where'd the Academy wunderkind come from? Rumor is you're some kind of new combat robot."

Keith actually chuckled shyly. "No, just have been in martial arts training since I could walk. I was born in Tokyo. My parents. . . Father is—was an engineer, Mother worked in nanotechnology until I was born, then stayed at home to raise me and my little sister May. She's. . ." his voice caught, then he continued, "She WAS five years younger than me. They. . .they were on the way home from the movies. . . other guy shouldn't have been driving. . ." he choked, then pushed away from the table and fled the dining hall.

Lance and Sven stared after him, Lance with his jaw hanging open, Sven with resignation. "Damn, I'm sorry," Lance finally managed. "I didn't mean to push. . ."

"You did not." The Norwegian boy shook his head. "But you should feel privileged. Not even to me has Keit told vhat happened to his family. I know only because Head Flight called me in and told me vhen it happened, so dat I vould know to be careful vit Keit." He sighed. "He vill lock himself in his room de rest of de veekend now. Best to just leave him alone."

Lance continued to watch the path Keith had taken. "You know him better than I do," he said finally. "But. . .it can't be good for him to keep that to himself. Has anyone TRIED to get him to open up?"

"Never more den vonce," Sven said darkly. "He is polite, but vill make it clear he does not vish to discuss tings. And make it clear dat he vill make you regret it if you continue to press."

Lance's jaw firmed. "I don't care. He needs to get it out, before he explodes. Excuse me, Sven." He got up and left, heading back to their rooms.

Sven sighed as he left, then put all their dishes away and headed out himself. Hopefully he could get to the rooms before Keith tore Lance into TOO many shreds. As he jogged towards the dorm, he grumbled to himself in his native tongue. "Idiot McClain. Hvis Keith ikke drepe ham, kan jeg. Bare for å være dum. Guder miskunn."*

*Idiot McClain. If Keith doesn't kill him, I may. Just for being stupid. Gods have mercy.


	5. Chapter 5

- Lance caught up to Keith at the door to their quarters. "Hey, why'd you run off so fast? We were just getting started."

Keith glared at him. "Because I don't feel like discussing my private life in public, thank you."

Lance wasn't about to be put off. "So, talk about it inside," he countered, opening the door with a flourish. "Come on Keith; don't let this eat at you. Talk to me." He flopped over a chair, peering at Keith upside down.

Keith dropped onto the couch. "Even if it WAS eating at me, which it ISN'T, what makes you think I would talk to you about it? I barely know you!"

Lance wasn't deterred. "Because you _don't_ know me, first of all. Because from what the Commandant said, we're going to be together for a good long time, and I really don't want to deal with you melting down at the worst possible time. But beyond all that. . ." the lanky redhead sat up, face unusually serious. "Beyond all that, I know what it's like to hurt, and think no one understands." Before Keith could get any more indignant, Lance moved closer and pulled the sleeve of his ever-present leather jacket back. Keith frowned; how had he missed those scars? "I met my first boyfriend when I was fourteen," Lance said softly, carefully not looking at Keith. "His name was Andrew; he was sixteen, blond, quiet, the sweetest guy I've ever met. He. . . he was my first. I met him at orientation; he was one of the guides, and we hit it off right away. He. . .his family didn't know he was gay; they were_ very_ religious, and he didn't think they'd accept him. So. . ." Lance looked down at his hands. "We spent my first semester together as much as we could, between classes and all. And by Christmas break, I knew I loved him, and he loved me." Green eyes flickered up at Keith. "Then he went home, and. . . gods he was so happy with me, so proud we were together. He decided to tell his folks about me as soon as he got home." The redhead took a shuddering breath. "I was told. . .his parents were angry, but his brother was _pissed._ Said they "wouldn't have no damned homos" in the Cross family, and. . ." he swallowed, "He grabbed a gun and shot Andrew, j-just. . ." Lance looked away, his shoulders shaking. "I found out after break," he finally continued. "And. . .decided my old man was right, I was worthless, Andrew was dead because of me."

"I-it wasn't your fault," Keith managed after a minute. "You didn't make him what he was, or make his family what they were!"

Lance nodded solemnly. "I know that now, two years and LOTS of therapy later. But at fifteen?" he shook his head. "Andrew was the best thing that had ever happened to me, and I was convinced that (a) I destroyed him, and (b) I didn't deserve to live because of it. So. . ." he stared at the marks that crossed both wrists. "I had a blade 'Drew gave me, just a pocketknife, but damned sharp. It seemed like the right thing to do, y'know? Thank whomever that one of the guys found me before it was too late." He shook his head suddenly. "Fuck, you're rambling, McClain. Anyways, I did a lot of talking to people with alphabet soup after their names once I woke up, until they decided I was just pilot crazy, not deranged crazy." Flash of a cocky grin that faded immediately. "Let it out, Keith. Don't get to _this._" He tapped the lines on his wrist. "And it will get to that, if you don't talk to someone. Please? I. . .I kinda want you around." He blushed furiously, surprised he'd let that last slip.

Keith stared dazedly at Lance, his thoughts racing. "Why do you care so much?" he finally asked. "You barely know me! What difference does it make to you what I do or say?" Surely the Academy bad boy Casanova wasn't interested in a quiet, scrawny fifteen year old? _Nothing wrong with hope, Kogane. Just don't get carried away on it._

Lance shrugged, running his hand through his not-quite-regulation-length auburn hair. "I know, it's weird as hell and I can't explain it for shit. But . . . I feel connected to you, some damned how, like I haven't felt with anyone since Andrew. I want . . . I want to get to know you better, if you'll let me. Please?"

"I think . . . I think I'd like that," Keith said after an uncomfortably long silence. A crazy idea struck him, and before he could talk himself out of it, he grabbed Lance by the lapels and kissed him awkwardly.

Lance was trying to think of how to ask Keith about his parents without being pushy, when he found Keith's lips on his. He barely managed a startled squawk before melting into the kiss. Keith was. . .inexperienced, that was obvious, but what the younger boy lacked in experience, he more than made up in passion. Lance found himself moaning, leaning into the kiss, then... Keith was abruptly gone. "I. . .I'm sorry," Keith stammered, blushing bright red. "I sh-shouldn't have done that, it won't happen again." He got up hastily, clearly intending to bolt to his room; Lance caught his wrist.

"I'm not a bit sorry, and I hope like hell it happens again," the lanky pilot said quietly. "It was. . .very nice." Keith nodded, speechless, and gently twisted his arm free of Lance's grasp, finally making good on his threat to vanish into his bedroom. Lance watched him, uncertain of himself for the first time since. . . since he'd first approached Andrew Cross for tutoring, so long ago.

"Vell, dat vas . . . interesting." Lance whipped around, blushing furiously at the sight of Sven leaning against the doorframe, his expression unreadable. "You are to be congratulated, McClain. I haf not seen so much emotion from Keit since . . . before his parents passed." He pushed off the doorframe, crossing to loom over Lance.

Lance shrugged, falling back into his cocky persona with a grin. "What can I say, it's a gift. McClain charm works wonders."

"So I haf heard." Lance's smile faded as Sven's expression darkened. "I hope you are not playing vit him, Lance. He is young, und sheltered. You hurt him, you answer to me, ja?"

"Perfectly." Lance met Sven's crystal blue gaze with his own unwavering green one. "Look, I know my reputation, and don't deny I've earned it. But . . . Keith's different, I swear. And if I DO hurt him . . .I'll be handing you my own saber to take me apart. I just hope I can get through to him, get him to open up."

Sven's expression softened into thoughtfulness. "I tink you vill, eventually. Just. . . be patient vit him, und don't push. Get to know who he is, beyond losing his family. Dat vill come in time, if you are just. . .his friend."

"I can do that," Lance said quietly. His com beeped, and he swore. "Damnit. . . I've got to go; promised Jeff Dukane I'd work with him on that sim problem Creander gave in Advanced Flight." He shot a longing look at Keith's closed door, and Sven suppressed a sigh.

"I vill tell Keit vhere to find you, if und vhen he comes out." the Norwegian glared at Lance. "But do NOT get used to dis, McClain. I am not playing messenger boy for eiter of you."

Lance grinned, completely unintimidated. "Understood. Thanks. Gotta run; bye!" He grabbed his bag by the door and clattered out at a run, leaving Sven shaking his head in amusement.

Three hours later, Lance wandered out of the sim facility to find Keith sitting on the grass waiting for him. "Hey, you been here long?"

"No, not at all," Keith blushed. "Sven. . .told me you were here; I thought maybe we could go get some dinner? I know this great little café just off Academy grounds. Quiet, and. . . . we could talk?" He looked up at Lance shyly. "I'd. . .I'd like to tell you about my parents, and my sister."

Lance couldn't have said no if he wanted to. Which he didn't. "Sounds good to me. . . lead the way, Kogane!" Keith gave him a shy smile as they walked off, slipping his hand into Lance's comfortably. Lance startled, then relaxed, squeezing the hand affectionately. _Well, this _is_ a nice start, _he thought with a soft smile of his own. _Hope this works out like I think it will._ He returned his attention to Keith, listening as the younger boy talked softly of people and classes they had in common. _Yes, very nice indeed._


End file.
